


Do you remember the last time we shared a bed?

by merakieros



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Schmoop, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, first time kissing, mentions of mild frostbite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merakieros/pseuds/merakieros
Summary: There are things they never spoke after, a secret agreement kept in the innocent sheets of a motel room so long ago, until now.





	Do you remember the last time we shared a bed?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KissingWinchesters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissingWinchesters/gifts).



> My first wincest story finished, yey for my artist -notwritter- self, this is a long overdue birthday present to my friend Jacqui, she wanted some fluff and the boys sharing a bed after a blizzard/snow, this is what I came up with, love ya, enjoy.

“No fucking way is it snowing,” Dean complained shivering, “come on man, yesterday it was like 70°.” His teeth were chattering.

 

“That was two states south, Dean, we’re still in winter, it’s not unusual to have snow here.” Sam was in the same condition as Dean, completely wet and cold.

 

“Yeah? If you knew that, smart boy, why ain’t you more prepared?” Dean wasn’t expecting an answer, he just needed to bicker. “I thought so.” He said with finality, nudging Sam to the side with more strength than intended. He couldn’t feel his arms, let alone measure his strength or the force of his push.

 

 

Seventeen hours ago when they started their trip to Cody, Wyoming, Jody told them about the strange deaths happening a few cities west of her own. It was information she stealthily got via a not so official or legal medium. The boys wouldn’t judge, but they were concerned for her welfare as she had been diligently hacking several sheriff’s departments and would just not listen to them about the cons of overachieving, always wanting to take on more and more responsibility. At least if she had any doubt she would always ask them for advice. Jody didn’t recognize the MO in those attacks and couldn’t put the pieces together. It wasn’t her city, hell it wasn’t even her state and it was not easy to travel there with two teenage girls to take to school. Teenagers also made it not an easy task to learn about the supernatural and all it’s different creatures, and that’s why as soon as she mentioned the details over the phone Sam recognized what they were facing even before Jody finished explaining the facts. There was nothing in the world that would make Sam expose Jody to a human flesh eating monster. Not because he considered her incapable of handling it, but because of the mirroring of the circumstances of their first meeting. Dean understood with only one look and they didn’t think twice about telling her not to worry and just take care of the girls. That’s how they ended driving eleven hours at night, and not taking the proper attire to wear. They didn’t expect to be lost in the woods at noon for several hours chasing a family of rogue ghouls, walking over a foot of soft snow while a blizzard impeded them from tracking the monsters down fast enough. They could only be grateful for still having daylight.

 

The snowfall slowed down when they were finally done with the monsters, slightly too deep into the woods for their liking.

 

 

Sam hit the soft floor after Dean’s shove. No opposition to the fall.

 

“Fuck.” Was all that Dean said.

 

“I don’t feel my face, Dean.” Sam said not even mad at being flat on the floor. He was just resigned.

 

Dean helped him back up and they walked in silence on what they thought was their way back to the Impala. She looked white all covered in snow, and Dean thought no matter what she was still beautiful.

 

“Oh god, there she is.” Sam moaned just noticing they were almost to the car.

 

“There she is.” Dean cleaned his side of the windshield with his hands, “How old was I when dad gave me the car?”

 

“You were sixteen? Eighteen? Why do you ask?” Sam replied, copying his brother’s moves and cleaning his own side of the windshield, always shotgun, and the side view mirror. Sam jumped inside as soon as he finished, knowing the car was freezing. He felt it was a little warmer, but it was probably just warmer than his own frozen body.

 

“Son of a bitch, even my balls are cold!” Dean sat rubbing his hands and legs and trying to warm up a bit.

 

“So?”

 

“So _what_?” Sam’s stare reminded him of his previous train of thought. “Oh yeah, I was saying I’ve had this beauty over twenty years and always been good on maintenance. Until three weeks ago when the goddamn heater broke.” Dean said seriously.

 

Sam felt the struggle between the fondness brought on by shared nostalgia and the onset of frostbite. He gripped the seat and mentally begged for the impala to not get stuck in the snow. Sam caught Dean doing the same, petting the wheel and muttering gently. The engine resisted the first three attempts, but roared to life shortly after. Dean waited a couple minutes for the engine to heat up before taking her back to the main route.

 

The worst part was that they had to drive eleven hours to get back to the bunker, and Dean already felt tired, hungry, and frozen. The first hour was painful, recovering sensation in all their limbs was not funny.

 

“Is everything on fire for you too?” Dean asked worried.

 

“We were out too long, the snow got to us.” Sam answered, more calm than he really was.

 

“Are we losing our fingers or something? Shit, my nose hurts.”

 

Sam searched on his phone for frostbite symptoms, reading the article fast and then inspecting his fingertips. He took Dean’s right hand and inspected it too, pressing the reddened, purpling tips.

 

“Dean, this medical website says our symptoms fit with first degree frostbite. It’s superficial and reversible, but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

 

Dean tried to look at his face in the rearview mirror.

 

“Your nose is still pretty and in place, princess.”

 

“Ha-ha so funny, not like yours” Dean fired back, with nothing better to say.

 

“What are you, five? Unbelievable.” Sam could hear Dean’s low key snickering beside him, because he knew that Sam would check his nose almost instantly.

 

The pain was almost bearable after the first couple hours, but not receding as fast as they would like it to.

 

“Can’t stand this shit anymore.”

 

“Want me to drive?”

 

“No,” Dean denied instantly and adamantly, “We’re cold, hungry, and tired. We’ll pick up some fast food. Check the options Sammy, and then go to the nearest motel room with a hot shower we can find.”

 

“Works for me,” Sam checked the map app on his phone. “Chinese good?”

 

“Anything fast is good.”

 

“There’s a Panda Express 2.7 miles ahead to the east.” Said Sam while checking the menu.

 

“Soup, they have any?”

 

“Yeah under appetizers, they have ‘Hot and sour soup’.” Sam read it in a funny voice to try to get Dean to crack a smile.

 

“BOOYAH! Ya know what to do.”

 

Dean drove as fast as the weather allowed him following the phone GPS directions Sam found. The snow gave way to freezing rain sticking to the windshield and making his wheels slide every so often. There is only three cars before them on the drive thru. Dean got his window down and ordered two soups, an order of chow mein, one of broccoli and beef for himself and one chicken and mushroom for Sam. He handed the bags to Sam who clutched them in his lap, they were warm. Dean started the car and drove back to the route they came from, directly to the motel he saw on their way. It looked even more unkempt than what they were used to, but no time to be picky. Sam opened the bag with the soup, clumsily removed the lid and started sipping at it.

 

“God, this is so good.” Sam moaned drinking up.

 

“I believe it could be piss and you would enjoy it as long as it’s warm.” Dean mocked.

 

“This is delicious, do you want yours?”

 

“When we reach the room.” Dean turned into the driveway following the management office’s red ‘vacancy’ light. Just by that Dean confirmed they would be extremely lucky to get real clean towels and sheets. He rushed to the counter finding a lady with an unfashionable excess of animal print, wavy bleached blond hair, currently applying two inches of acrylic nail to her left hand.

 

“It’s gonna be a cold night, handsome.” She said for a greeting.

 

“Sure will be, sweetheart,” he smiled emotionlessly, reading the handwritten badge laying on the counter with the name ‘Daisy M’. “Do you have any rooms?”

 

“One remaining room, cowboy, do you want it for a couple hours?” Daisy replied with absolutely no inflection.

 

“I need a room, two beds till tomorrow.”

 

“That’s fantastic, could you turn the vacancy light off for me please sugar?” She spoke slowly and carefully, typing on the old computer cautiously to not ruin the manicure “The climate control unit is currently out of service, but I can let you borrow an electric heater if you need one.”

 

“Yes, we need that.” He didn’t get to be completely mad at the news, the place looked like it was falling apart.

 

“You can take the one plugged in the corner, I’m leaving now.”

 

Dean gave her a credit card and took the heater. She seemed not interested at all in his business and that was wonderful. He only wanted to park the car close to the room, eat his soup, take a shower, and burrow himself on bed.

 

Thanks to the window being wide open the room was small and beyond freezing. Sam closed it along with the curtains, wishing it could add a little more warmth. A small rusty blue foldable table rested closed against the wall with only one chair. Dean unfolded the table and considered the chair for a moment, but it looked unstable. Better not tempt destiny sitting on a century old rusty chair. He set their food out and gulped down his cooling soup, moaning in appreciation.

 

Sam was standing beside the heater shivering while trying to warm up his hands.

 

“I still feel little pinpricks in my fingers.”

 

“Eat your food Samuel, while it’s still warm.” Dean spoke in his best mom impersonation.

 

By the time they finished the food theoretically they knew the room should be warmer thanks to the heater, but it didn't feel better at all. They kept uncontrollably shivering, their clothes still wet in some places. Dean made a show of preparing his hands in the universal starting position for a rock, paper, scissors battle.

 

“No man, you earned it. You drove all the way here. I could barely breathe and you drove for hours, go get the first shower.” Sam lifted his hands to signal peace.

 

“What a gentleman Sammy, I'll get all flustered.”

 

“Don't be a jerk and enjoy it.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'll even leave some hot water for you.”

 

But he didn't enjoy it. Dean shouted loudly to Sam from the bathroom how much and in how many ways that he hated peeling off wet clothes, especially the socks and underwear sticking to his skin. He hated even more the frozen tiles under his feet. Sam smiled listening to his brother struggling in the bathroom, the door being slightly ajar letting them chat easily. He collected the discarded containers and threw them in the garbage can outside their room. They were wrong, outside was a thousand times worse.

 

Sam walked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel without being noticed. He could pick up from Dean's cursing and muttering and the lack of steam in the mirror that the water was a fiasco. He almost pitied his brother. Sam peeled his own clothes off throwing them over the table, he took the insoles out and filled his shoes with newspaper, did the same procedure to Dean's because he knew his brother would be too lazy to do it himself. He found clean underwear, the shower be damned, and went to bed taking the heater for himself. He would keep it until Dean noticed and complained. Sam put it between the sheets, unsurprised to find out the maximum levels didn't work.

 

“Oh fuck me, this feels so good.” Sam buried himself in between the sheets, not even worried if they were clean.

 

“Do you want the room for yourself and the bed?”

 

Sam grunted in response, not dignifying the comment with words or looking at Dean’s face.

 

The sun still was not down, a couple hours left maybe for it to be dark outside, but they were exhausted. Too exhausted to even keep an eye open. Sam passed out before Dean finished complaining about the cold tiles and the probably broken or too old water heater and the ridiculously hard water pressure.

 

“Come on, I know it’s a shitty place but cold water? It was barely warm, super sad, and probably gave me a few bruises. Not taking a shower was the smartest thing you have done today.” Dean was shivering in his bed. “Sam you there?” Dean got no answer. Sam didn't emerge from under the covers or move a muscle. “G’nite”

 

There is one thing no one can achieve, certainly Dean couldn't, and that is to fall asleep with their feet cold. Especially with the rest of their body freezing as well. There is a moment in which a man has to accept defeat, and after turning for the seventy sixth time in bed Dean trashed the sheets and plucked up all the covers.

 

“Little shit took the heater.” Dean lifted Sam's covers only to have the heater make a small crackling noise that raised all his red flags before shorting out. Resigned to having the worst luck in the history of bad room service Dean unplugged the heater and left it on the floor.

 

“Scoot your ass over.” Dean demanded lifting Sam's covers once again.

 

Sam stirred but didn't wake up.

 

“Come on Sam, move, I'm freezing here.”

 

“WHAT?” Sam jerked awake shouting. “Deanyouscaredmeman” Sam said in a rush sitting up startled, looked around blinking and confused, trying to calm himself and evening his breathing before settling back down into his pillow.

 

“Goddammit Sam, move over.”

 

Sam made himself comfortable on the left side of the bed, the best he could anyway while still keeping his back to the windows. Body trained by years of habit as to where Dean was supposed to be. Dean rapidly occupied the right side shivering and seeking the warmth in the sheets.

 

“Sam I'm gonna pull a Saint on you.” Dean took off the T-shirt he often used as pajamas, and discarded it randomly on the floor leaving his wife beater undershirt on.

 

“Wha’? DEAN! Fuck no, you are a friggin popsicle.” Sam didn't have time to react before Dean had his arms around him and his body pressed against him like a limpet. A deadly cold limpet. “Shit Dean, seriously, don' touch me.”

 

“I'm Val Kilmer, you are the weird science chick, now give me your body heat, Sammy.”

 

“You owe me.” Sam slurred already starting to fall back asleep. He grabbed Dean's hands and let him use his stomach to warm up, only hissing for a second at the contact before interlacing their legs together.

 

Dean still shivered but he felt better, so much better he almost started to feel his limbs. He couldn't avoid feeling the memories rising to the surface. Sam would always let him use his stomach to heat his hands. How easy it was to fall right back into the habit that was buried a lifetime ago. But back then they were kids. Sam still was his little brother literally speaking, small and soft, still packing baby fat in all the right places. Dean couldn't stop searching the chubby tummy he liked to squeeze, but Sam was all flat planes, strong muscles,and scars now.

 

This was no different than when they were little, but everything was wrong. Sam's waist feels different, their tangled legs feel different. Dean's memory of Sam feels wrong. Consciously he knows Sam is a man, of course he does. They’re both past thirty. Dean still remembers the last time they shared a bed. Sam was fourteen and they got caught in a storm while hunting. Back then he was a lanky teenager, skinny and soft like a girl, no different than any other experience of him sleeping around. This felt different.

 

Dean has never shared a bed with a man.

 

The rough feeling of hairy legs against his own was new, the toned muscles under his palms and fingers was new, the hair that made Sam's happy trail was new, the squared pecs and pointy hard nipples, the hair in between them, the broad shoulders, the narrow firm waist, all new, the scar of the bullet he took out with his own hands. Dean still remembers when none of those features existed.

 

Dean sank his face into Sam's nape, the long strands of messy hair tickling his nose. Sammy used to smell clean and like the kid’s shampoo in the dinosaur bottle. Now he smelled like clean sweat, old spice, and musk.

 

“Your nose is so cold.”

 

“Still awake?”

 

“Yeah… with all the molesting going on, couldn't sleep.”

 

Dean didn't dignify that with an intelligible answer, but pressed himself closer to Sam. He was still shivering and feeling cold, but so much better and so much calmer than he had been in years. If he knew that playing cuddly bear with Sam would be this comfortable he would have done it long ago. Objectively he knew comparing Sam to what he remembered of him was stupid, Sam was barely hitting puberty the last time they did this. Now he was so big Dean could drape himself fully against Sam's back.

 

“Dean, can you stop squirming?” If Sam could guess from the heavy breathing on his neck and limp body lying almost over his whole back that Dean was on the edge of sleep.

 

“Sorry.” Dean mechanically apologized and stopped moving.

 

“Still cold?”

 

“Yeah, shower was freezing balls.”

 

“Turn around, princess” Sam ordered, nudging his brother to move faster.

 

Dean grumbled about Sam stealing his joke but complied. Breathing in the cold air from outside the covers, away from Sam's body heat wasn't pleasant at all. It wasn’t good again until he felt it back against himself, Sam plastered against his cold back. Dean couldn't think of many things that could bring him more joy that this moment and this position.

 

“Fuck, your skin is like a vortex sucking out all the warmth.”

 

“Whatever ya say Sammy, just keep close.” Dean said blissed out.

 

“You owe me big, I can't believe I’m actually Saint- that’s not even a verb Dean.” Sam spoke while sitting up and taking his shirt off as fast as he could before manhandling the resting form of Dean, stripping away his undershirt too, and laying back down skin against skin.

 

“Shit.” Dean moaned, trying to get the most contact on his frozen back. Sam was big, if he thought Sam felt big between his arms it was because he hadn’t experienced until that moment what being spooned by Sam Winchester was like. To fit perfectly in his arms and to rest comfortably against his chest, to be able to feel every pump of his heart on his own. Being completely surrounded, embraced by Sam, was the safest Dean has ever felt.

 

Sam's hands closed on his torso, caressing mindlessly the skin he found there.

 

“Your chest is pretty soft.”

 

“Says the wooly sasquatch. Also ya know what Sam? _Shuddup_.”

 

Sam could feel every powerful heartbeat under his palms, pecs not as defined as they used to be, a still flat stomach softened on the edges. Sam knew even he was getting out of shape, they hadn't had proper training in a long time, but all that garbage food was paying off. He grabbed the loose skin on Dean's belly and right there Sam decided he liked it.

 

“Dean?” Sam breathed in the cheap soap smell on Dean's skin, and found everything was just as he remembered. He only missed the leather jacket smelling like gun oil that added that extra layer to the scent he recognized in his memory as Dean. It was as comforting as ever, and that was the problem with sensory memory. His brother was not the same, they both weren't the same, but the smell that reminded him of safety and love was there. Sam missed it, ached for only one more minute of that sweet, innocent peace. He clutched Dean with all his strength, shivering and no longer because of the cold, and he could feel his brothers own shudders. “Dean, do you remember the last time we shared a bed?”

 

Of course Dean remembered, it was the time they almost kissed. It was the time he stayed up all night listening to his brother’s heartbeat, to his brother’s soft breathy sounds, to the smell of his hair which was already getting too long. It was the only time Sam turned around and hugged him back. It was the one time he knew for sure Sam could feel his hard-on, and he could feel Sam's on his leg. It was the time they didn't move, just stayed tangled together enjoying their last time. After that night they never shared again, not a single time. One would sleep on the floor, on a couch, or in the car and they would joke and make it fun choosing with rock-paper-scissors. They never spoke about it either in a silent agreement. Dean never forgot that night of course. He remembered it like the palm of his hand, probably his hand remembered it more vividly, and it was on the top of his shameful jerk-off fantasy pile for many years. The ‘yes’ that he answered Sam with was barely audible.

 

Sam slowly lowered his hand giving plenty of reaction time, dragging the pads of his fingers on Dean’s skin.

 

“Sam, no.” The words had no strength, no heat or command, and it was what Dean was supposed to say, Sam's hand rested on his lower stomach.

 

“I know if I go lower you’ll be rock hard. Dean, let me please.” Sam murmured, dragging his lips over Dean's nape.

 

“How did you know?” Dean tried to ask, but the plain statement didn't allow him to sound surprised.

 

“I feel the same way,” Sam said like it was no big news, kissing the tensed muscles on Dean's neck, “have for a long while.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Also your dick was poking my asshole when you moved.”

 

“Fuck, sorry.”

 

“No, you're not.” Sam said palming the hard erection Dean was sporting through his underwear.

 

“I'm not.”

 

Sam ran his fingers over Dean's torso, giving the attention deserved to each bumpy rib. He intended to memorize every scar making a different indentation in the soft skin, trailing fingertips on his navel, lower over the happy trail and...

 

“Fuck, Sammy.” Dean turned almost violently, grabbing Sam's hands and pulling them to his racing chest.

 

Dean looked frightened, his wide eyes and slack mouth hanging open, but he wasn’t alone Sam looked the same way.

 

“Call me old fashioned, but I’d like to kiss you before your hands are on my dick.” The smirk on Sam's face alerted him of the complete hell those words would earn him later, but Dean didn't care. To his surprise Sam said nothing.

 

Sam freed his hands and caressed his brothers face reverently, brushed the marked lines around his frown then softly moved to his cheekbones, smoothing the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes, tracing the form of his shaped full lips, making Dean relax at the contact. He was beautiful, more beautiful up close and twice as beautiful when he could see himself reflected on those perfect wide green eyes.

 

“I'm waiting here.” Sam teased smiling brightly.

 

Dean kissed his lips exactly how Sam imagined he would long ago, desperate and with such softness in his touch. Dean was memorizing each second, still giving him space enough to escape.

 

Sam grabbed his brother's neck, caressed his jaw and massaged his cheeks with his thumbs, strengthening his grip and breathing in his brother’s air. He deepened the kiss and made it impossible for Dean to keep containing himself, the breathy pants, the sucking wet sounds their mouths made together was all the incentive he needed to wrestle Sam over himself, laying down and moving Sam's legs to straddle his thighs. Sam followed the plan with no protest and without stopping nibbling and tugging on Dean's lips, sucking hard and making his brother moan loudly.

 

“Fuck, slow down there Cujo.”

 

“Sorry,” Sam said with zero conviction, biting the soft meat enclosed by his own lips, “sorry,” he kept saying it between rough kisses and bites, “I just… damn Dean, the sounds you're making, can't stop.” Sam devoured his mouth in a breathtaking kiss, caressing Dean's hairline not daring yet to tangle his fingers in the short hair. “Don't make me stop, please.” Sam said resting their foreheads together, not opening his eyes.

 

Dean bucks his hips upwards and slowly starts to rub himself against Sam.

 

“Ah, Dean.” The moan that left Sam's lips is sinful, loud and honest, the sound of a man gulping down the first glass of water after too long of a time, deep and fast breaths before Sam takes his brother's lips back wishing to never stop and to start moving. His legs tremble with every experimental thrust, supporting his weight at each side of Dean's thighs.

 

Dean can feel wet tears on his face, those are not his tears, or maybe they are, Sam is back at sucking his lips and dragging those long magic fingers on the side of his face, cleaning any vestige of the fragile emotions.

 

“Sam Winchester cries his way through sex.”

 

“Not funny.”

 

“Yeah, sorry.” The older brother apologized thrusting up harder, and finally putting his hands to good use he grips Sam's narrow waist directing the movements, sliding his hands toward his ass to squeeze each perfect butt cheek harder than he had ever gripped a rear in his entire life.

 

“GOD! Dean, ahhh it feels good, do-n’t stop, don't stop.” Sam panted prettily on Dean's mouth, moving his own hips faster and grinding his hard cock down with more enthusiasm trying to align their dicks together.

 

“De-an, harder, I need.” He rolled the name of his brother on his tongue, pushing out a breathy moan, savoring every single syllable.

 

“Got ya, Sammy.”

 

Dean pulled down the waistband his fingers had been playing with, as far down as he could, trapping the elastic band under Sam's cock and balls. It was dark under the covers and he cursed the lack of visibility. Sam was squirming and moaning unabashedly and he couldn't see him clearly, but maybe that was good. Dean was already feeling over stimulated. The smell coming from Sam's heated up skin, the moans and hands roaming over his body already had him on edge. Using one hand he forced Sam down, tangling his fingers in the messy hair so he could bring his brother’s neck closer and breathe in Sam's intoxicating musk. He had never smelled it this close up unabashedly, not close enough to taste it, and never nearly long enough. He cupped the soft, perfectly shaved scrotum in his other hand, squeezing and rolling each ball, tugging them lightly, just how he liked it on himself, earning more pleading.

 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck” Sam was trying desperately not to blow his load on the spot.

 

“I need you to touch me, NOW.” Dean ordered while sucking on Sam's earlobe. “Can you roll us over?”

 

Sam didn't argue, and in one second he had wrestled Dean to be on top again. He took advantage of the position to get two full hands of ass, the perfect round ass that has been taunting him for so long, making Dean groan. But before Dean could have any say on the matter Sam ripped one long gash on the left side of his boxers making Dean's cock pop out free.

 

“Fuck, that's hot.” Dean said taking the exact position Sam had before and restarting the unrelenting thrusts

 

“So hard for me.” Sam fisted Dean's cock tightly in one large hand, stroking it twice and thumbing the wet stream of pre-come already coming out.

 

Dean's broken gasp and grunted words were unintelligible, Sam's touch felt scolding on his skin, his balls getting tighter, his dick pulsing.

 

“Second, wait.”

 

“Good you remember how to speak English.” Sam said, but released his brother's cock, feeling smug because he almost had that orgasm in his hand. He felt Dean's sides up, brushed his thumbs over each nipple making him shudder. “Sensitive.” Sam flicked the buds determined, pinching the hardening flesh with the tip of his nails, scratching them and making Dean gasp.

 

Dean moved his body higher bringing his chest closer to the mouth watering for it. Sam wasted no time in sucking one nipple, nibbling and using his tongue while lazily jerking off.

 

“God, your mouth.” Dean panted out holding on to the headboard, grinding his swelling cock over Sam's stomach, he was so close.

 

Sam was astonished at how hard they felt in his lips, he could taste the blood too close to the surface, sucked hard marks around the abused nipple.

 

It did hurt, every place Sam's lips touched ached, but he wanted more. He wanted that sweet pain to last, he wanted to be marked and scorch Sam’s ownership on his skin as much as it was in his soul.

 

Dean clutched desperately to Sam's head, pinning him in place with strong shivering fingers, yearning for more contact with that mouth. Dean startled in surprise at the feeling of a playful finger running over his crack.

 

“Shush,” Sam calmed murmuring softly, almost like a secret, “I have done this to myself, let me, please.”

 

“Fu-ck, yes.” He pleaded with short breaths.

 

Sam's pre-come coated finger traveled to Dean's crack, opening his way and massaging the tight muscle. There was no surprise on his part, Sam knew he was gonna be the first, Dean himself had said so, loud and clear. It was so hot Sam could get off only on that thought. How far could he go? Would Dean let him?

 

He played with the furrowed skin, pressing the tip of his middle finger and trying to make room for it, feeling the muscle relax under his touch. Dean pushed back making his finger slip in.

 

“Shit.” Dean complained, the massage was amazing, the intrusive digit felt cold inside and against his belief it moved easily.

 

Sam failed a couple times at finding the exact place but by the electric spasm and squirming thighs at his sides, Sam knew that he eventually got the spot right. Dean was breathing heavily through his mouth and stopped grinding his hips not daring to move.

 

“Come on man, ride my fingers.” Sam was excited, fisting his brother’s hard cock with his free hand, giving it a couple of encouraging tugs, caressing the slit with his thumb.

 

The movement was slow and unpracticed. Dean fucked into Sam's fist and back on his fingers. He got the handle of it in no time, finding the perfect angle to get to his prostate.

 

“Oh fuck me!” Dean's broken words died in a short moan followed by a pained grunt. He arched his back violently, taking in Sam's finger to the last knuckle and shooting a long string of come. His legs and muscles quivering with his orgasm, he lost himself for a second or longer, only able to listen to the rush of his own blood.

 

Sam could see his shape in the dark since his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. Through the years he had seen a good share of people orgasming because of him, but Dean, Dean was otherworldly. He just took beautiful to the next level. His finger buried deep inside his brother and his hand gripping his still hard and pulsating cock, Dean was perfect like that, broken with his eyes closed, pliant and tender. Sam would gladly stay looking at him, maybe wait until Dean started to respond again, but he needed to finish _urgently_.

 

“De-an,” Sam was frantic trying to get friction where he needed it, he removed his finger carefully and patiently.

 

Dean still was regaining control of his limbs when he shushed him, whispering softly “I'll take good care of you.” Leaning over and kissing Sam, wet and open mouthed, switching on the night table lamp, “Wanna see you.”

 

Sam liked what he could finally see. It was comforting to catch Dean looking at him like that, blown black pupils and the feeling of his limp dick giving some valiant pulsations in his hand.

 

Dean recovered fast, sat down between Sam's legs, and there was no hesitation when he grabbed that hard meat in his hands. Sam's erection was perfect, it didn't curve to any side predominantly. Sam fell back at the contact, holding onto his elbows, not wanting to miss anything but needing the support.

 

“Good like this?” Dean asks while stroking him relentlessly using both of his hands.

 

Sam opened his mouth and tried to speak, but he couldn't form the words.

 

“That good?” Smirking, Dean licked his lips, holding Sam's gaze.

 

“Don't get co-cky.” Sam exhaled, not losing sight of his brother’s tongue. He wanted it desperately, especially back in his mouth and on his neck, back licking him all over. Dean was a hell of a good kisser, among a variety of other things.

 

Dean entertained one of his hands, sliding it down to massage Sam's balls again. He couldn't get enough of that soft, sacred skin, of how Sam was bucking up his hips, of the strong muscles in his thighs flexing, the rise and fall of his chest desperately pulling air in.

 

“Damn hot,” Dean grumbled, not missing a detail.

 

Sam Iaid down in the bed looking up, and backed his ass up in Dean's lap straddling him and moving exactly how Dean was expecting him to. His back was resting in the bed and he planted each heel firmly behind his brother’s back.

 

“Yes! Fuck my fist.” Dean said astonished, watching how that perfect cock slid up and down his hand. The strength in Sam's thighs with every thrust, the muscles in his stomach flexing hypnotically, Dean tightened his grip making Sam squirm and lose his pace.

 

“Ahh don't, you, go!” Sam was out of his mind, sweat dripping over his face, neck, and chest with his eyes closed shut.

 

“Shhh, come on Sam,” Dean calmed him patting his side twice, “let me see it.” He waited for Sam to open his eyes to give him his best crooked smile and a wink.

 

Sam just needed to come. He was overstimulated, his whole body was on fire and he was harder than he ever remembered being. Dean's hands felt like heaven, his heart was pounding hard in his chest, and his legs were starting to cramp but he wanted it to last longer, forever. He opened his eyes to see his ridiculous brother, with that ridiculous smile he reserved just for them, and a ridiculous wink while he kept stroking his cock.

 

“Don't judge me, I’ve never done this, I'll suck.”

 

Giggling Dean leaned down with his raw-kissed, red lips never losing eye contact, and licked the top of the dick in his hands collecting the fresh seminal stripes leaking down. Stopping a moment to taste the new flavor, Dean let Sam see what he got in his tongue before moving it in his mouth, humming appreciatively, and swallowing. He went right back at the head, moving his lips over it doing small suction sounds.

 

“DEAN!” Sam came violently with a broken moan of his brother’s name, convulsing under Dean's hands and shooting long white stripes of come.

 

The sigh Dean exhaled was filled with satisfaction.

 

“I can't believe you made a blowjob pun.”

 

“...and I can't believe I put your dick in my mouth, but it happened.” Dean said over Sam's words in a fake pissed tone.

 

Sam sat up with a soft smile on his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes, trusting his still hard cock against Dean's stomach that made him swoon. Sam used his thumb to clean a patch of come that made its way to the oldest brother’s cheek. They kissed until both of them were soft and spent, laying down in the sheets, tangling themselves and fitting perfectly with the covers up to their necks.

 

“My fingers still hurt.”

 

“I know, mine too.” Sam murmured back, already sleepy, grabbing Dean's hand in the darkness and kissing each digit before letting it rest on his own stomach.

 

 

**•**

 

 

 

Dean stirred in bed faster than Sam did at the sound of someone knocking on the door. It was slow and soft, and the bedside clock announced it was 10 in the morning. Grunting, he untangled himself from Sam scratching his bed head hair, putting on the first shirt he found on the floor to promptly open the door. It was the receptionist, he didn’t remember her name and today she wasn’t wearing her name tag.

 

“You and your friend wouldn't like some company?” She asked, biting her lip suggestively.

 

Dean followed her gaze from the naked lump half covered in bed to his lower body, and then the big gash on his underwear that Sam gifted him last night. Rapidly he covered himself, not even feeling embarrassed. Dean Winchester never regretted a good, fun night. Almost.

 

“Did you want something?” Dean's voice is hoarse and he can feel the scratchy feeling in his throat, sure that he’s getting a cold.

 

“Just to let you know the water heaters were repaired, sugar.”

 

“Sure, thanks.” Dean yawned and closed the door.

 

“Do you think Dolly Parton the friendly receptionist knows we’re brothers?” Sam clung to Dean's back, kissing his neck.

 

“Who knows? Who cares?” Dean turned around and hugged Sam's neck, for a second looking too lost. Sam's eyes never stopped watching him back. “I never felt like sharing you.”

 

“Thank god, me neither.”

 


End file.
